


It won't let you go

by Mercyisnotasignofweakness



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Arguing, Falling In Love, Fear of Discovery, Feels, Light Angst, M/M, hidden romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:25:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8816734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercyisnotasignofweakness/pseuds/Mercyisnotasignofweakness
Summary: There's a reason why it's called forbidden. It's also the reason why it's impossible to ignore.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shivra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shivra/gifts).



> Written for Shiv, one of the best friends I've ever had. Thanks for everything you've done for me in the past year, for your support, guidance and company. I hope you enjoy this little gift I made for you. Merry Christmas and happy New Year! Here's to the new one and all the adventures that await us in the future. I love you <3
> 
> \- From your pal, Mercy
> 
>  
> 
> _Beta-read by[Pancakepants](http://pancakeuniverse.tumblr.com/). Thanks for the help buddy! _

_My heart and head are fighting_  
_And my head is saying no_  
_But my stupid heart won't listen_  
_And it won't let you go_

**\- Unknown**

* * *

Sans’ upper body feels heavy, resting against the top of the counter. He’s a dozen drinks in and a couple of fucks to give lighter. The smile on his face is crooked and could be described as looking somewhat malicious. His fingers tap on the counter to a silent song he’s humming, again and again. The sound of bone on wood soothes his uneasy soul. He’s looking nowhere in particular, his eyelights just resting on the bottles behind the counter. He’s watching the flickers of light in the polished glass.

He’s aware of the lacking sounds of conversations going on around him. The last patron, except himself, left almost twenty minutes ago. He’s seen the shadows in the corner of his eye, people cleaning up the bar and putting chairs on the tables to make room so the floors can get cleaned. He’s heard the same song five times today, the melody easy for him to tab along too as it once again starts up on the jukebox to his right.

It’s halfway through the song that the rabbit finally speak up. It’s one of the store lady’s brats. They’ve grown up so fast and that fact alone only sours Sans’ mood. He empties the glass in front of him and pushes it away, grabbing the full one already waiting for him with little thought.

“Want me to drag him out for ya Grillbz?” the rabbit asks in a much too lazy way that ends in a deep sigh, like it’s a huge inconvenience that Sans even exists. Sans lets out a small growl, feeling a stab of jealousy in his soul. That’s _his_ nickname the brat is using.

“Goodbye, Carol.” The rabbit leaves without a word, but Sans feels the glare on his back burn until the door slams shut behind her.

The bar is silent for several minutes. The last few tones from the jukebox fade out and Sans’ fingers come to a rest on the wooden surface. Unable to look the bartender in the eyes, Sans closes his and takes a deep breath.

“You ever woken up one day and felt like a puppet?” he asks way too softly. It wasn’t meant to make him sound so vulnerable. “Like you just realize that everything you’ve done for the past 20 years or so have all been some kinda act? Nothing you’ve done or said have really been you, it’s all been for someone else. So they didn’t have to realize what a crappy place the world is.”

“No.” Sans snorts and shakes his head. He opens his eye sockets again, but keeps his gaze on the glass in his hand. For a moment he just focuses on the click of his fingers on the sides of it.

“Figured you’d say no,” he mumbles. “You’re Mr. Perfect after all. ‘Course you wouldn’t be stupid enough to do something like that.” The shadows around him flee from the light of Grillby as he steps in front of Sans, but Sans still refuses to look up. He follows the reflection of Grillby’s flames in his drink instead.

“Why are you here?” Grillby asks. Sans shrugs, not having an answer.

“Don’t know. Thought getting drunk would fix my problems for a while. It didn’t.” He’s not even feeling all that drunk. He didn’t drink fast enough for that tonight.

He’s just so sick of _feeling_ all the time. Is a distraction for a few hours that much to ask for?

“Why are you here?” Grillby asks again.

“I just told you,” Sans says. “Didn’t ya hear me?” Grillby moves around the corner of the bar and stops at Sans’ right shoulder. The heat from Grillby’s body is as always subdued by his clothing, but Sans can still feel it lick against the side of his face. For a moment it makes a surge of longing take hold of his soul.

Grillby rips the glass out of Sans’ hand when he tries to take another sip and throws it through the room. Sans watches the liquid fly through the air for a second, watching the flicker of light reflect in the droplets before they fall to the floor, landing among the glass shards.

“ _Why are you here_?” The question resembles a growl more than anything and causes Sans to sink a bit lower on his chair. He should have figured Grillby would still be pissed.

“Whatever,” he mumbles, deciding to just get out of there. “Doesn’t matter anyway.” He’s tired of listening to people yell at him. He jumps off the chair, but is quickly stopped by a hand grabbing his shoulder.

“Is it really _that_ difficult for you to admit?” Grillby asks. “You would rather leave than just answer my question?” Sans slaps his hand away, feeling a pool of emotion grow in his chest. He levels Grillby with a glare and points a finger at his chest.

“Ya already know, so why the fuck do you need me to say it out loud?” he counters. “You know what that’ll mean. I can’t risk putting Paps in danger because I’m too stupid to control myself.”

“Weren’t you the one that just cried about feeling like a puppet?” Grillby says. “How about you do something for yourself for once in your life and stop treating Papyrus like a baby. He’ll be just fine.”

“What if I don’t want to, huh?”

“Then I’ll ask again: Why are you here? If you’re not here to apologize then I see no reason why for you to still be here.”

“Maybe I just needed a friend to hang with. Is that a crime now?” Grillby snorts something resembling a humorless laugh and shakes his head.

“Our friendship was ruined a long time ago, Sans.” Grillby sighs as he rubs a hand over his face. When he looks up again, his expression is tired and sad. It's so far from the usual cheeky smile and energetic air that usually surrounded Grillby a while back. It makes Sans sad that he's the reason Grillby lost that. “I’m not in the mood for another argument. If you’re not here because you have changed your mind, then leave. I can’t keep doing this.”

“ _Y_ _ou_ can’t keep doing this?” Sans asks in disbelief. “You’re the one that’s doing this to us!”

“I know your impression of me is different, but I am not a strong enough monster to suppress my feelings like you do. I don't want to be.” Grillby walks behind the bar again and opens up the cash register. He pulls out the tray holding all the coins and starts building small towers of them, counting his profits for tonight.

“I don’t suppress my feelings!” Sans exclaims. His protest is too quick and too shrill. The irony makes him cringe a little bit, because he knows Grillby is right and Grillby knows it too.

“Of course not,” Grillby just says, rolling his eyes at Sans. Sans feels the desire to rip those ridiculous glasses off his face now more than anything. Whatever “persona” Grillby has created for his business, that’s not the monster Sans wants to have a conversation with. He wants the gentle and soft spoken Grillby he remembers from their secret nights together, the Grillby that would actually laugh at his jokes and would tell him stories about the Surface. The longing building in his soul once more, the desire to see that monster again, makes Sans furious.

“Hey, don’t go blaming me for your mistakes! You’re the one that fucked up and made this thing complicated!” The words are out of his mouth before he can shut himself up. He knows they’re a lie, that Grillby isn’t the only one that fucked up, but it’s so much easier to blame someone else for the mistakes Sans made himself.

“If you consider falling in love to be ‘fucking up’ then you're more like  _them_ than I thought." A deep sigh leaves Grillby and some of the tension vanishes from his body. "I suppose I should have realized that long ago. You have always been too concerned about what others thought,” Grillby says. He hasn’t stopped counting the coins in front of him.

“Stop twisting my words. You know damn well what I meant.”

“I’m not so sure I do,” Grillby snaps, finally looking up at Sans again. Whatever calm had taken him for a moment is gone. His hands clench into fists that he uses to slam into the counter, making the stacks of money jump and fall over. The sounds of metal falling on the floor hangs heavy between them for several seconds before Grillby continues.

“Is it so incomprehensible that after the things we’ve been through together, the things we’ve _done_ , that we might share more than just a friendship with benefits? I understand that you might not love me back, and if that is so, then I will accept it. But you can’t even tell me _that_. You just keep avoiding the question and I won’t wait any longer. I told you last time. Either you give me an answer or you stay away from me!”

“You’ve no idea what you’re asking me to do!” Sans shouts. He’s shut up quickly by Grillby who abandons his counting in favor of walking out from behind the bar again. He comes to a stop next to Sans. He leans so close that it feels like the flames of his face touches Sans’ cheeks.

“I know _perfectly well_ what I’m asking you to do, Sans,” Grillby hisses. “Had it never occurred to you that what you are risking by giving me an answer is something I have already risked by telling you I love you? I know what we’re risking, but I don’t care about the consequences anymore. I’m sick and tired of sneaking around and lying to everybody! That's not how it's supposed to be! It's not a life worth living!”

“I _have_ to care, Grillby! Don’t you get it? I have my brother to think about. He’s reputation will suffer if we do this!” Why won’t he understand?!

Grillby removes himself from Sans again, leaving the air feeling almost icy cold in his wake. He sighs deeply and shakes his head at himself. Suddenly he looks so much older than normal and that tiny glimpse his true age makes something hurt in Sans’ soul. How can he keep forgetting how old Grillby really is?

All of a sudden Sans feels like a moody teenager letting out a ton of warm air just because he’s too scared to take what he really wants. What happened to staying civilized and behaving like an adult? What happened to the promise he made himself a few weeks ago?

“I’m done trying to convince you,” Grillby says way too softly. It sounds like he’s giving up. “Either you give me an answer now, or you get out of my bar for good.”

“That’s not the problem, Grillbz!” Sans responds. He jumps off his chair and walks closer, holding his hands out towards Grillby. “Admitting that has never been the problem for me.”

“Then why won’t you do it?”

“Do you really need to hear it that much?” Sans asks him. The look on Grillby’s face tells him yes. Again Sans has to suffer a twisting pain in his soul. Has he really been that blind?

“ _Of course_ I love you too, you idiot,” he says. “It’s pretty fucking obvious that I do. I mean, I’m not exactly subtle. Even the rabbit’s brat knows.” Sans points over his shoulder towards the front door. When Grillby looks at the door, Sans reaches out to take one of his hands. To his relief, Grillby only curls his fingers around Sans’. They tighten around Sans’ hand in a desperate way, but it’s the only thing Grillby does.

“Admitting it has never been the problem,” Sans repeats, trying to emphasize that point. “The problem is that you don’t just want the words. You want _more_. Going public will risk everything for us. You could lose your bar, your reputation.”

“I’m aware of that,” Grillby just says.

“And it doesn’t bother you?” Sans asks.

“Of course it does,” Grillby answers, “but I won’t let other people’s hatred stand in the way of my happiness. I’ve waited too long for this. They won’t understand us because they think love makes you vulnerable, but we both know that is a lie. The stories of the past just scares them too much to even try.” Sans unconsciously rests a hand over his chest. His soul beats strongly just underneath it, stronger than it ever has before. It surprised him too when they found out just how much their love would change them. Sans has shared his soul with a few monsters before Grillby, but none ever gave him the reaction that Grillby’s soul did.

“Sans,” Grillby calls in a much softer way, pulling Sans out of his thoughts again. He reaches out and brushes the back of his hand over Sans’ cheek. “I know why you are scared. I am too. But we can show them that they are wrong. I know we can.”

“I might lose my brother,” Sans whispers, finally admitting what he is _really_ scared of. He looks up at Grillby and grabs the hand caressing his face. He needs the physical reminder that Grillby is there with him. The truth hurts, but it can’t be hidden anymore. Grillby deserves to know that he will always be second in Sans’ soul. “He might not understand, Grillbz. I can’t lose my brother.”

“You raised him,” Grillby says with no hint of anger. It surprises Sans. He was sure Grillby would be angry when he found out Sans loves his brother more than him. “I would be very surprised if Papyrus doesn’t understand the concept of love. With a guardian like you watching over him, he must have felt it many times before.”

“He’s just so different now. I can barely recognize him. Undyne messed with his head,” he explains. Fears Sans has kept to himself for years are pouring out of him faster than he can process. It’s a dangerous thing to do, but something he have never been able to stop himself from doing when he's with Grillby. Somehow he just makes Sans feel safe.

“You can’t let fear rule your life Sans. You’ll never be happy if you do.”

“And being with you will make me happy?”

“Hasn’t it already?” he asks. “I’ve heard you, whispering to me when you thought I was asleep.” It feels like Sans’ face explodes in warmth all of a sudden.

“H-heh, s-so you heard that, huh?” He laughs nervously and looks down at their feet.

“It’s what gave me the courage to tell you in the first place,” Grillby says. Sans sighs and looks up at Grillby’s face again. For a moment, he just watches him.

They’ve come such a long way. From barely being able to communicate because of Grillby’s disability, to Sans being able to read his expressions easily. Sans now knows that every single little flame that flickers on Grillby’s physical body is important and not just for show. He can read Grillby from the way they move and from their colors on the days when Grillby’s magic is too low for him to talk, and he’s too burdened by thoughts and memories of the past to muster the energy to sign. He knows that Grillby doesn’t care about the consequences of going public with their love because he has lived through something much worse than the hatred and teasing of the other monsters. Grillby needs a partner and not just a companion and if Sans has to be honest, then there’s nothing he would rather do with his life, than be Grillby’s.

He sighs deeply before he shakes his head and throws all caution to the wind. Ignoring the shadow of the rabbit eavesdropping outside the window near the front door, Sans steps closer to Grillby so he can wrap him up in a tight hug.

“We’re gonna get so much crap for this,” he mumbles against Grillby’s chest.

“I know.”

“We might need to move. Capital is more open to things like this.”

“I know.”

“I have to tell my brother.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Grillby asks. Sans nods.

“Yeah. Don’t think I can handle his crap for the third time today without you. This is gonna break him. I just know it,” Sans says.

“Are you sure you want to do it tonight?”

“Yeah. It’s better to just get it over with so I don’t change my mind later because I get scared again.” Grillby pulls back from the hug a bit. He leans forward to press a kiss to Sans’ forehead, but Sans tilts his head back instead. After a short moment of hesitation, Grillby closes the distance between them, joining their mouths in a kiss.

For a long moment, they stay like that, feeling each other once again. Every second that goes by only assures Sans that he made the right decision. He can already feel his soul getting calmer, finding that rhythm that matches Grillby’s and makes his entire body buzz. When the kiss ends they end up just breathing against each other until Grillby breaks the silence.

“We will be okay,” he says, and somehow Sans believes him.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll be okay.”

 


End file.
